Crowfeather's Trial

Walking without thinking, Crowfeather headed across the moor toward the border stream that divided WindClan territory from ThunderClan. The early morning sun had vanished; clouds were massing above the hills, gray and heavy, and so low they almost seemed to skim the top of the pile of memorial stones.

As he drew closer to the stream, Crowfeather tried to recover from his shock and think this through. Where should I go? He stopped. Where does a cat with no Clan go? If I ever wanted to try my luck with another Clan, I suppose this would be my chance…

For a moment he imagined himself crossing into ThunderClan territory, heading for their camp, and offering himself to Bramblestar as a ThunderClan warrior.

Leafpool will be there…

But it took only a few moments for Crowfeather to realize how stupid that would be. Leafpool hadn’t loved him for seasons, and if he was honest, his love for her had faded, too. If anything, he missed the way he had felt when he loved her — how young and foolish and hopeful they had been. Besides, asking the ThunderClan medicine cat to be his mate would be the quickest way to get himself banished from yet another Clan. Bramblestar won’t take kindly to my showing up, announcing my sudden loyalty to ThunderClan, and then taking one of their medicine cats.

It would never work. Besides, in ThunderClan he would have to deal with Lionblaze and Jayfeather, and StarClan alone knew how that relationship could be anything but a disaster.

Bramblestar probably wouldn’t want me… and I’m not a ThunderClan cat, he added, struggling not to feel sorry for himself. A hollow place seemed to open up inside him. I’ve been WindClan all my life. If I’m not a WindClan cat anymore, what am I?

Crowfeather reached the border stream and stood on the bank for a moment, unsure what to do. He bent his head and lapped the icy water, delaying for a few heartbeats the time he would have to move on. Then he turned and headed upward, away from the lake, away from ThunderClan, making for the open moor. He couldn’t stifle the memory of setting out from here with Leafpool, once, long ago, when he had believed that they could leave their Clans behind them and make a new life together.

I was so happy then.

But now all that was left to Crowfeather was bitterness. Leafpool had abandoned him to return to her Clan and her duty as a medicine cat. He had taken another mate, a cat of his own Clan, but he had never really loved Nightcloud, and his relationship with Breezepelt was clearly a mess. All that had remained to him was his Clan, and now that was gone, too.

I gave up so much for WindClan, he thought, and this is the way it ends. I spoke the truth to Onestar, and he banished me for it.

Crowfeather knew he was right: It was a mouse-brained idea to block up the tunnels and antagonize ThunderClan. But no cat had listened to him, or spoken up for him. Not even Breezepelt.

Some son he turned out to be! I must have had bees in my brain to think I could ever mean as much to him as Nightcloud did.

WindClan scent drifted into Crowfeather’s nose, and he realized he was approaching the border with the moorland. Beyond that was unknown territory. He halted on the border, but before he could take the final step that would cut him off from his Clan forever, he heard some cat calling his name.

Crowfeather turned to see Heathertail bounding across the moor toward him, with Breezepelt a few paw steps behind. His muscles tensed and he dug his claws into the ground as he stood waiting for them.

“What do you want?” he asked harshly as the two cats skidded to a halt and stood panting in front of him.

“Onestar led the Clan down to the tunnels to start blocking the entrances,” Heathertail explained, her chest heaving as she fought for breath. “We slipped away and picked up your scent trail.”

The bitter pain in Crowfeather’s heart eased a little, to think that Heathertail and Breezepelt had come looking for him, but he found it hard to respond. Breezepelt was standing a pace or two behind Heathertail, his gaze fixed on his paws, the familiar awkward, sullen expression on his face. He looked as if he didn’t want to be there, and at the sight of him Crowfeather’s heart hardened again.